The 2nd Blindfolded Competition
by ABlindedCompetition
Summary: Stories written by the writers competing in the 2nd Blindfolded Competition. Round 3: Magically Inconvenient. (or The Magical Round). Various restrictions, warnings (when applicable) & prompts posted with each story. Enjoy!
1. Introduction

All following stories were submitted for Round 1 of the 2nd Blindfolded Competition found in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.

Enjoy :)


	2. Horrors of Love

**Theme: Magically Inconvenient (or The Magical Round)**

 **Imposed restrictions: omniscient narrator/narration & Word Count 500–2,500 (no leeway)**

 **Selected characters: Tom Riddle Sr., Merope Gaunt/Riddle, Tom Riddle Jr.**

 **Selected prompt: "I broke a nail!"**

 **Word Count: 2,136**

* * *

 _T. R. loves M. R._

His thumb reverently traced the uneven ridges of the scratched 'M', the abrasive touch of the bark harsh against his calloused fingers. He didn't care for the sharp pain of splinters lodged in his hand. He didn't mind the drops of blood running along his palm. A soft smile lit his face while his glazed eyes roved over the rough carving.

A loud cry broke his trance. Tom Sr. jumped from his seat. He slammed the door open, bounding to the kitchen. He bumped against the dirty walls; he disturbed the frail shelves. He barely hissed in pain when an old vase came crashing on his shoulder.

"What happened?" Tom Sr. asked, rushing to his wife's side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Merope cradled her right hand in her left one. "I broke a nail. It's nothing."

'She was hurt.' The words ran through his head like an ominous knell. A visceral agony gripped his heart in a snake-like grip, drowning the rest of her words in his pain-filled whimper. He had told her to be careful. He had told her that she was too delicate. He had told her! The venom of anger slowly trickled along with the pain - anger at her carelessness, anger at her daydreams, anger at her indifference for his love. How could she have let this happen? Did she not know how important she was for him? His hands clenched in tight fists at his sides. His lips twisted in an ugly snarl.

"Tom, it's just a nail. I'm fine." Merope took a step back, her body shaking in fear while she tried to appease his rising anger. But her words only roused the fury slithering through his veins.

"No, you aren't!" he roared, his tall frame looming over her small self. He grit his teeth at the sight of her pallid face, her pathetic sobs and her snivelling cowardice. He hated how she had imprisoned him with her love. He hated her-

"No, no, no," he whimpered at the assault of the traitorous whispers. He grabbed his head, furiously pulling his hair. He swayed on his feet, torn between the different voices. He didn't hate her. It was Merope, the love of his life.

'Is she? She's the witch who has ensnared you.'

'She was the one who supported you even when your parents shunned you.'

'She's wicked and evil.'

'How can you not see her beauty and kindness?'

'You hate her.'

'You love her.'

"ARGH!" his inhumane scream pierced through the tormenting voices as he fell to his knees. He scratched his face in his demented frustration but the pain did little to soothe the haunting torment.

"Shh, Tom. I know you love me." Merope bravely embraced his convulsing body.

He clutched her feeble figure like a last lifeline. His lips hurriedly claimed hers. His teeth scraped off her skin. His nails dug in her shoulders.

"I love you. Yes, I love you," he dazedly added in between kisses, more to himself than to her.

"I know you do. You need to leave for work, don't you?"

Tom Sr. blinked, shaking off the haze of the last few minutes. "Yes... yes, I need to go. But are you sure you're going to be fine?"

"Yes, I just need to complete the dishes and -"

"No!" Tom Sr. grabbed her protectively, his eyes wide in fear. "No, you're hurt. You aren't doing the dishes."

"There are only a few left. If I don't do it, who will?"

"I'll do it. Or Tom?"

"He's only six-" Merope tried to interrupt him but Tom Sr. was already shouting for his son.

"TOM!"

A wraith-like boy, clad in heavily patched clothes, appeared at the door frame. Tom Sr.'s lips twisted in an ugly grimace as he stared at the boy.

"Do the dishes," he said through gritted teeth.

His narrowed eyes followed his son's subdued form. He saw his own lank and thinning hair in those curly dark locks. The elegant stance mocked his own awkward and spastic movements. His son was the mirror showing his glorious past and his ugly present. His son was the traitorous voices whispering him how undeserving he was of his wife.

And worse, he had seen the love her wife had for the brat. Every night she would stand in front of his door to make sure he was sleeping well. She would always leave a larger piece of meal for him so that that brat would never go hungry. Before Tom Jr. came, Merope had been his and his only. Now, Tom Sr. had to share her with the boy. He wished to wring that small neck, to shout how much he hated him. He didn't. He knew that she wouldn't like such thoughts so he never spoke it out.

But Merope knew. She had seen the crazed hatred in those eyes when they looked at Tom Jr.. She quickly rose from the floor and followed her husband to the room. She didn't dare linger behind to help her son or even exchange a few words. If he caught her talking or spending more time with Tom Jr., his love for her might not be enough to stop him in time.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay? I can stay at home."

"I'm fine. Don't worry"

Merope beamed at her husband, who nodded vigorously before leaving. The smile slipped away when she heard the sound of the key locking her inside. She didn't yell, she didn't plead, she didn't cry. After the first few times, she learnt that it would only worsen her husband's fury. She had seen how possessive he was of her and ironically, of her safety. She unconsciously touched the scars and fading bruises covering her left arm. But it was the price to pay for her sins.

She mechanically opened the closet standing in the dark corner. She retrieved the blackened cauldron along with the different vials. Her fingers clenched the sharp knife tightly in her fist as she stared at the ingredients she had laid on the table. The potion had once bestowed her with love, a gift that the same potion slowly poisoned to an empty husk. She envied the life of those mudbloods that her lunatic father had always belittled. She wished she had never heard of the word 'Amortentia' or even 'magic'. She wished she could leave all this behind. But she couldn't. She had imprisoned her husband so tight in the prison that if freed after so many years, he would either kill himself in madness or murder her and her son in obsessive revenge.

Her fingers deftly chopped the rose thorns while her eyes oversaw the blue flame under the cauldron. She quietly bore the sting of scraped skin and bruised lips. Whispers of past regrets accompanied the soft incantations. If only she had the strength to stop the Amortentia potion early on. She almost did when she was pregnant with Tom Jr.. If she had, maybe Tom Sr. would have stayed, at least for his son's sake. Her son would have known real father's love. They would have been a real family, instead of this farce of a home. The bitter taste of regret was harsher to bear than the pain coursing through her face.

Her knife stopped when she heard a loud crash outside.

'Tom!' Her mind screamed at her, worried for her son's safety. He was too young to be doing dishes. But after a few seconds of panic, she continued cutting the ingredients. She wouldn't be able to open the door. She wouldn't be able to calm her son who was probably in pain. She wouldn't be able to embrace him and soothe his worries away. Drops of tears splashed against the silver blade. And those few broke free the grief she had bottled inside her for so long. The knife fell away from her grasp as silent sobs racked through her body. She slid to the ground, weak and feeble as she had always been, whether it was against her father, her brother or now, her husband. She cried not for herself because she deserved every minute of pain and humiliation. She cried for her son because she had given him a life as broken and cursed as hers had always been.

While the sound of Merope's sobs filled the derelict room, her son's laughter resounded through the clearing outside. Tom Jr. giggled at the tickling sensation as a small snake licked the bloody gash on his palm. He was used to the scaly reptiles slithering around him since he was a toddler. Unlike his parents, they talked to him, told him stories about magic and other parselmouths. In fact, their reverent hisses always left the 'young but esteemed speaker' feeling special.

"And what about my mother?" He continued after the fit of giggles had subsided. The silky whispers of parseltongue easily slid off his tongue.

"She smelt like a trickle of magic."

Tom Jr. nodded. He had assumed as much. If his mother was truly powerful, wouldn't she have been able to better control her husband? The snakes had told him all about the sweet-smelling potion that his mother used to ensnare his father. They said that the wizards and witches used it to make their prey fall in love with them.

"And me?"

"You?" The snake rose its head, looking at him in his eyes. "Nagashesh said that you smelt like a monsoon of magic. She said that one day, you will have as much magic as the Great One. You will not only talk to us but also command us."

His brown eyes widened in childlike wonder. He had heard about the mighty Salazar Slytherin, who the snakes also called the Great One. A deep sense of pride swelled inside him, along with a fair amount of excitement and curiosity. Could he really be as great as his ancestor? Would he be the one to bring back the Golden Age of magic? Could he really command the snakes? He crouched closer to the snake. He stared at its glinting scales as it slithered along the grass. He revelled in the desire to be as great as his forefather, the need to be in command.

"I command you to come here." He felt a soft tingle in his body as the words left his lips. It felt... magical.

He laughed as the snake slithered to his hand. It was so easy. Maybe the snake was being stupid.

"I command you to form a crown on my head."

He giggled as the scales tickled against his soft skin. He pressed his hands to his mouth to silence the laughter when the snake slithered inside his big shirt. A pleased grin filled his lips with the snake resting on his head. He wondered if Salazar Slytherin had a crown of snakes too. He would have one when he would rule the world.

He wondered what else he could make the snake do. So he tried everything. The small snake brought a dead rat for him, plucked a flower from the other side of the yard and even sang for him. But Tom Jr. felt a small amount of frustration inside him. He knew that Salazar Slytherin didn't have snakes bringing flowers. It sounded like the silly things that his mother made his father do. He scowled at the thought of being as weak as her. He needed to do something different, something powerful, something great.

"Youngling," he wet his lips, staring at the beetle-like eyes, "I command you to die."

The snake froze. Gibberish hisses filled the clearing, sounding not unlike screams. Tom Jr. never stared away. He watched as the snake swayed, reminding him of his father when he screamed at his mother. He could see the same fight in these small eyes. For a moment, he saw his father in front of him, tight in his control. He felt those hatred-filled stare, wishing that he was never born. He felt the painful slaps that he never deserved. Tom Jr.'s small fists dug in the ground. His dark eyes hardened, losing all traces of past laughter. His body tensed, as if on the point of a fight.

"Die!" the harsh sound left his lips like an abominable curse.

The young snake went rigid and fell, lifeless. A brief sting of grief flashed through Tom Jr.'s eyes before it drowned in the overwhelming pride and self-satisfaction. No, he wasn't weak like his mother. When his time came, no one was going to hurt or belittle him. Everyone would follow his command. He would be great. After all, he was the monsoon of magic.

The soft sound of giggles resounded again through the clearing.


	3. The Importance of Being Inventive

**Theme: Magically Inconvenient (or The Magical Round)**

 **Imposed restrictions: omniscient narrator/narration & Word Count 500–2,500 (no leeway)**

 **Selected characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood.**

 **Selected prompt: "I broke a nail!"**

 **Word Count: 2,469**

* * *

"Lovegood, just give me a bullshit prediction so that I can go!"

"Detective Malfoy," Luna said serenely as she poured some tea, "I have never given you anything but true Divination."

"Divination is just guesswork and luck," Draco drawled. "I'm only here because Inspector Lockhart is into this superstitious shite. Now hurry! I have an investigation to get back to!"

Luna took Draco's cup, swirling its tea leaves. Her dreamy expression was marred by the slightest of frowns. What an odd shape…

Draco's eyebrow rose. "Please tell me you're predicting my death. I wouldn't mind getting time off."

"I see a cog," Luna replied.

"So what? The gears of my fortune are changing?" Draco's tone dripped sarcasm.

"Actually, it's just a cog. If you want to stop the Nargles, I suggest you find one."

"A cog." Draco stared at London's best fortune teller. "Finding a _cog_ is going to help me in this investigation?"

"The first cog you see is the one that will bring you the most happiness." Luna extended her palm expectantly.

Detective Draco Malfoy bit back a furious reply and shoved some silver into the girl's hand. Hat in hand, he stormed out the door of _Lovegood's Fortune Telling and Tea Parlour_ , and walked over to where his constables were guffawing as they made lewd faces at women across the street.

"Crabbe! Goyle!" he snapped. "Find me a cog!"

The constables shared a look of confusion before Goyle nodded at a nearby shop. "Like that one, sir?" he asked.

Draco followed Goyle's direction to the next door shop. _Potter & Co's Magical Inventions_read the sign and Draco was instantly reminded why he hated coming to this part of town. Troublemakers, thieves and dreamers were the only people who lived here and more than half the population spent their days high on opium. Still, there was a cog drawn on the sign and Draco had a vampire to catch. He waved for the idiots to wait for him and stepped through the grimy door.

 _Potter & Co's_ interior was hearth-warm and brightly lit by oil lamps. A bell tinkled above Draco's head, just barely audible over the laughter and clanging metal sounds that echoed from behind the empty counter.

A flap of material moved and a man of medium build stepped into the room, smiling as he removed his goggles. Draco noted the strong smell of smoke and the grease on the man's hand as he approached.

"Welcome!" Harry greeted. "What can I do you for?"

"Detective Malfoy, Station House 4." Draco moved his coat aside to show his silver badge. "I need a cog."

"You don't get many bobbies around here," Harry said, eyeing up the detective. "What do you want a cog for?"

"Just get it," Draco growled.

Harry sighed and disappeared behind the flap. The store door opened and two ruffians entered, though Draco paid them no mind. His mind was flipping over the evidence he had gathered against the newest vampire in town. There was only two places in London that would serve blood to an unlicensed creature of the night, but Draco wasn't even sure what this vampire looked like. That meant no warrants and an undercover operation in two of the seediest bars in the city. And his showpony of an inspector would not permit the mobilisation of the entire force to find one criminal either…

A loud whistling broke through Draco's musing and he flashed back to the present to see the other two customers backing away from a large spinning top that emitted strange lights. Harry and his partners soon burst into the room.

"Put back what you stole or you won't be leaving here alive," snarled George, the fire from his flamethrower highlighting his missing ear.

"Don't try to deny it!" Fred warned, aiming his shotgun at the man who blubbered denials. "The Sneakoscope never lies."

"Give it back and we'll forget about this tomfoolery." Harry's tone was as light as his brass rod's twirling movements.

Predictably, the thieves tried to run. Fred shot one in the leg while Draco pulled his gun on the other. "You're under arrest."

"Good on you!" George cheered as he hopped over the counter. "Reliable little bobby, ain't he?"

His twin agreed as they fleeced the men for the stolen items goods. "If only he stopped them before they took anything."

"If you watched your shop, this wouldn't happen," Draco snapped back. He walked to the door and called for the constables to take the thieves away. As they rushed to follow his command, Draco ran into Harry.

"One cog, free of charge." Harry handed over the copper piece. "Thanks for the help."

"It's my job." Draco's eyes returned to the strange spinning top. "What is that?"

"One of my inventions!" Harry said proudly. "It's called a Sneakoscope. It picks up on suspicious people." He showed it to Draco. "Neat, right?"

Draco's mind whirled with possibilities. "Is it for sale?"

"Yeah, we have -"

"I'll take it."

…

Luna finished her cookie as Harry explained his new 'fragrance dispenser'. "Did anything exciting happen yesterday?" she said, cutting across his demonstration of how the dispenser and its fragrance packets worked.

Harry frowned as he put down his invention. "Oh, just a bobby that came by."

"Detective Malfoy?" Luna asked, receiving a nod. "He's cute, isn't he?"

Harry scoffed. "He's a rude, stuck up prick. Did you send him?"

"My tea leaves did." Luna picked up Harry's teacup. "Want a reading?"

"By all means." Harry had learnt to never underestimate Luna's powers.

"A broken nail," Luna declared after a moment of deliberation. "There will be problems in your workplace. However, this will bring you closer to someone you desire."

…

"This thing is useless!" Draco declared as he swept into Harry's shop.

Harry sighed and set down his latest gizmo. "The Sneakoscope was working fine when I sold it to you. Did you break it?"

"No, it just hasn't shut up since last night! Even when I was alone in my bedroom or in the office!" Draco tossed the invention at him.

"Were you doing anything suspicious?" Harry asked, pinning Draco with a fierce emerald gaze.

Draco swallowed. He might have been planning Lockheart's demise, but anyone who spent longer than five minutes in the phony's presence would do the same. And if Draco's musings were more realistic and gory than most, than it was only because of his wilder imagination. "I thought it detected suspicious people. I'm hardly suspicious."

"What makes a person 'sneaky' or 'suspicious'?" Harry asked. "The Sneakoscope works with intent. It doesn't matter whether you're doing something bad, or if you're a 'good' or 'bad' person. If you're having nefarious thoughts or intentions, the Sneakoscope will activate." He returned it to the detective.

"So it's useless."

"You're the one who didn't want to hear how it works before you bought it," Harry retorted.

Draco glared at his disappointing purchase that was now just barely above his Inspector's level of utility. Then a thought occurred to him. "Could you make it specific to a certain type of species? Say… vampires?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Theoretically, it's possible."

"Good. Do it. I'll pick it up tomorrow evening." Draco shoved the device back into Harry's hand.

"Listen, asshole, you can't just order me -!"

"There's a rabid vampire on the loose," Draco interrupted him. "I'm sure you've seen the articles." He glanced at the open _Daily Prophet_ on the counter. "I'm in charge of the Supernatural Division and without this device, it will take weeks to track this killer down. So I need it done tomorrow."

Harry gritted his teeth, but his eyes had softened. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you."

…

Draco dusted his jacket free from coal dust, courtesy of one of Lovegood's customers. He had gotten another useless prediction. A broken nail to show his problems at work? That was a no-brainer, considering that he had yet to catch the damn vampire. The part about his desires was probably just adlib, he decided, as he entered the now-familiar shop.

"I didn't get a chance to test it, what with no willing vampire test subjects and all, so good luck!" Harry said, handing him the Sneakoscope.

"This had better work."

"I take no responsibility if it doesn't." Harry shrugged as his annoying customer left.

Judging by Draco's pissed off look the next morning, it hadn't. "This thing is useless!" Draco threw it hard at Harry.

"Didn't work?"

"Oh, it worked all right. Found all the vampires doing evil deeds within three metres. Problem was, it sounded like a freaking banshee! Scared off nearly all our suspects and alerted everyone to our location! Secondly, I can't prove anything! Yes, we found them in suspicious circumstances and some with illegal items on them, but there's no evidence to convict most of them!"

"Well, if you can prove my machine works in the courthouse-"

"It's inadmissible. I checked." Draco sighed. "We didn't even catch the one we were looking for. Probably disappeared the moment that thing started wailing."

"Guess it can't replace detective work just yet, huh?" Harry smiled sympathetically.

"I wish. I wouldn't mind having one other competent person in the place."

"That bad?"

"Most of my unit joined because we're the most prestigious in the police force," Draco explained, leaning against the counter. "Hardly any of them have any real skills, and our inspector is just the pretty face that brings in publicity and deals with bad press. Occasionally we get some sponsorship out of his name, but that's it."

"Sounds rough," Harry touched Draco's hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't help."

"I'm used to it," Draco said, looking away. "Anyway, I have an idea of how to make this worth it."

Harry rolled his eyes and removed his hand, the moment broken.

"Could you maybe make it so that it picks up on ill-intent aimed at a specific person?"

"For you?"

"For my mother."

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought of the detective as a family man.

"I have far too many enemies, but she only a few dangerous ones." Draco stood up straight.

Harry thought it sounded like a lonely existence, and one that was heart-achingly familiar. "I can only try."

The shop was oddly cold after Draco left.

…

It took two weeks of endless investigations, dead leads and Luna's mumblings alternating between the object of his desire and the prey he sought before they finally got the bastard. The vampire had claimed over twenty victims during its gruesome feeding spree, and Draco counted his blessings that he hadn't been one of them. It was a close call according to Luna, who foresaw a Grim in his path.

At that time, he had made a breakthrough in the case so he only cashed in the death prediction after the case's conclusion. Lockhart gave him two weeks off, more than would be usual for one Grim Divination, but the blonde probably wanted to use the time to steal all the credit.

Without intending to, Draco spent much of his break visiting Harry to work on the new Sneakoscope. Since it was a gift for his mother, Draco wanted it to be perfect. He complained about the design until Harry etched motifs into the glass. It took a lot of arguing but eventually he also convinced Harry to get rid of the infernal racket it made. By downsizing it and reducing its buffer zone, Harry discovered he could get the sound to emit a cheerful buzz. The crazy lights were replaced by a silver glow that Harry thought was pointless but Draco liked it.

"You know," Luna said as she poured them all tea, "it's a nice thought, Draco, but kind of pointless."

"What do you mean?" Draco and Harry frowned.

"Well, a Sneakoscope doesn't discriminate between the types of evil intent or deeds, does it? Someone could consider hurting you but never acts on it, or they could be jealous of you and wish you ill. They may do something harmless, like putting bugs in your soup, or they could be a mass murderer hiding amongst your friends. Wouldn't the Sneakoscope treat it all the same?"

Both boys felt incredibly stupid after that. However, it lit a fire under Harry and even after Draco returned to work, he still visited the inventor to offer snide critique. The bill for the job kept rising, but Draco didn't mind. His family was well off and conversations with Harry were well worth the price tag.

However, after more than a month of hard work, the new design was done.

"It's a bracelet of tiny Sneakoscopes," Harry explained as he locked it onto Draco's wrist. "The green one picks up on jealousy, the yellow on harmless pranks, the red on murderous intent and the last on everything else."

Draco raised a brow, causing Harry to scowl.

"It's not like I can think of everything, you know! This is better than nothing…right?"

"It's very useful, actually," Draco held it up to the light. "Stylish too. How do you get it keyed to one person?"

"A simple blood ritual." Harry handed Draco the instructions and the bill. Draco paid the large figure wordlessly. "The one on your wrist is for you. This one here," he said, giving Draco a box, "is for your mother."

"I only paid for one."

"The other is a gift, from me to you."

Draco thanked him, stowing away the box carefully. A soft whirring reached his ears and he glanced down to see a Sneakoscope keyed to Harry had activated.

"What bad thoughts are you thinking of, Draco?" Harry teased.

"Honestly?" Draco threw caution to the wind. "What you would look like bent over this desk. Considering I would like to take you on a date first, is it really that bad?"

Harry's cheeks flushed. "Luna broke this one yesterday. It activates by mistake." Before mortification could completely set in Draco's expression, Harry quickly added, "I would like that date though."

"Oh… good." Draco grabbed the annoying gadget and flung it into the waste bin. His lowering hand hit the desk at an odd angle, making him hiss in pain.

"You okay?" Harry grabbed his hand concernedly.

"Yeah… I broke a nail, is all." Draco pulled off the offending hangnail as proof.

Harry blinked, then chuckled. "You know, a Divination from Luna suddenly makes sense to me."

Draco stared at the other for a moment, before he too chuckled. He reached over the counter and pulled Harry close for a long overdue kiss.

In the workroom, Luna popped out the Extendable Ear and shook her head fondly as she stated, "Boys." Her outstretched hand was soon crossed with the twins' silver. Really, how silly of them to bet against the fates.


End file.
